


ah! madam, what a place you sent me to

by nouveaux_jours



Series: tumblr fics [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M, fly-in-the-milk, storyteller stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouveaux_jours/pseuds/nouveaux_jours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as he set out, he heard a crier calling for all to come hear of an evil queen who traveled in disguise to steal and eat handsome young men, and how the wolves on whom she blamed her crimes had their revenge. Derek loved a good gory story, so he set off at once toward the voice.</p><p>Derek was quite amazed to find the town square empty except for himself, but not so amazed as the crier was to find Derek listening to him.</p><p>-</p><p>In which Stiles tells stories, Derek is a cur, and things happen in the highly logical way of fairy tales.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ah! madam, what a place you sent me to

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading a lot of fairy tales lately. 
> 
> That, however, does not excuse this, and I apologize to the anon who sent me the following prompt.
> 
> "A mail person sick of their job trying to sell a stranger the mail sack so that they can report it as a theft?"
> 
> Title is from a story that I happen to like called Fairy Gifts.

Once upon a time there lived a clever young crier named Stiles in the town of Beacon Hills. No one in the town ever lacked for news, for Stiles spoke amiably with every traveler who came through, and had a gift for getting them to tell their stories. Every story he heard, he repeated with great skill every night in the town square - once the traveler who told it to him had gone.

One day, a very beautiful young woman with long red hair came to town riding on a white horse. Stiles hastened to tend to her horse at the inn and peppered her with compliments and questions, but she only replied, “Begone! false friend, I have nothing to say to you.”

Stiles was very disappointed, because he did not doubt that the beautiful woman had many interesting stories to tell, but he moved on to question other travelers.

The next day, a stooped old woman riding a bony nag rode into town. Stiles hastened to tend to her horse at the inn, and paid her many compliments and questions, just as he had done with the young woman the day before.

“Not so false!” the fairy said to herself - for she was, of course, the same lovely woman from the day before, in disguise.

She let Stiles keep her company all day and all evening, and he waited on her with the greatest courtesy. She rewarded him by telling him of her home in the Land of the Fae, of her travels and dealings in many lands, and even of spells and magic recipes.

When she grew tired, the old woman asked Stiles to help her up to her room at the inn. He did so with great courtesy. Just as he leaving her to her sleep, she said, “You must repeat none of what I told you today. My stories are for your ears and none others!” Stiles agreed without hesitation, and left her.

The next day, Stiles helped the old woman ready her horse and watched her ride out of town.

That very night, the people of Beacon Hills gathered in town square to hear him speak. He had spent so much time with the old woman that he had no other stories to tell, so, heedless of his promise, he began to tell of the Land of the Fae. He did this without fear, because he foolishly did not really believe in fairies or in any of what the old woman had told him.

“Fie!” called a voice from the crowd. The lovely red-haired woman approached Stiles, her face a mask of rage. “So this is what your promises are worth! I say to you what I said when we first met.” Her voice took on a terrible profundity as she imbued it with the power of a spell and said, “Begone! false friend, I have nothing to say to you. And nor shall any other.”

The world around him swirled, and Stiles fell into a deep slumber.

~~

When Stiles awoke the next morning, he was no longer in the town square of Beacon Hills, but in a town in the center of a vast valley. The town was very like Beacon Hills, and many travelers passed through it every day. But no matter how he entreated them, no one in the town would speak to Stiles. Every night he stood in the town square and cried out his stories, but none would listen to him.

He knew from what the fairy had told him that there was one way to escape a fairy’s curse, and that was to trick another into taking his place. But how could he trick anyone when no one would speak to him? Stiles tried day after day to devise some plan, but day after day he thought of nothing. His only comfort was crying his stories, which he had begun to make up on his own.

One night, the night of a full moon, a handsome traveler named Derek came on foot to the town and took a room at the inn. Not wishing to retire early, he determined to spend the evening walking about town. Just as he set out, he heard a crier calling for all to come hear of an evil queen who traveled in disguise to steal and eat handsome young men from the towns of her kingdom, and how the wolves on whom she blamed her crimes had their revenge. Derek loved a good gory story, so he set off at once toward the voice.

Derek was quite amazed to find the town square empty except for himself, but not so amazed as the crier was to find Derek listening to him. Terrified that he was only dreaming of his handsome listener, Stiles told his whole story without stopping to acknowledge him. Derek laughed at the jests, gasped at the violence, and showed every sign of utter delight in the bloody tale, and especially in the victory of the wolves.

Stiles gave a low bow at the end of his tale, fully expecting the spectator to have vanished when he lifted his eyes again. But he was still there, smiling and clapping with delight.

“Well sung!” he said. “But tell me, how is it that none come to listen to such a skilled crier?

“Thank you, kind sir,” said Stiles, amazed at his luck. “But I know only one story. Everyone in this town has heard it many times.”

“Still,” said Derek, “it is such a good story that I should like to hear it many times more.”

“Even the sweetest story grows old,” said Stiles. “But even the oldest story is sweet to fresh ears. Good sir, if you know any story other than what I have just said, even the most oft repeated, I would pay you dearly to hear it.”

Derek laughed, and conceded that he might know one or two short stories.

“Then come,” said Stiles, bowing again with a flourish. “Take my place!”

Derek did so. As he sat to listen to him, Stiles was surprised to find that he was a gifted storyteller. He began to feel remorse for tricking the kind man into taking his place, but could think of nothing else to do but enjoy the story he told.

Derek told of a powerful fairy who traveled the world protecting maidens and old women alike from unscrupulous men, and punishing any who treated women falsely.

As he finished his story, the world around him swirled just as it had when the fairy cursed him. “Good-bye, sweet man,” he said, hoping against hope that they would meet again.

~~

When he woke, he was once again in the Beacon Hills town square, and was amazed and delighted to see that Derek was waking up right next to him.

And who else should be there in the moonlit square but a very disgruntled looking red-headed fairy?

“Derek, you cur! You fly-in-the-milk! Why are you singing my summoning song?” she raged.

“You two know each other?” Stiles wondered aloud.

“You goofed, Lydia,” Derek said bluntly. “Stiles got me to take his place.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Then I supposed he can come back,” she said. “But since you fell for his wit, Derek, you must stay with him, and keep him away from women.”

With that, she vanished, and Derek and Stiles both smiled.


End file.
